The Song of Legend
by Jevryn's Destiny
Summary: Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales have successfully ferried the dragon eggs and the Eldunarí to a new land, aptly named Esterní, 'Good Fortune' in the Ancient Language. Galbatorix has been vanquished for sixteen years now, and all is well in both Esterní and Alagaësia. Now, a new generation of Shur'tugalar must rise to safeguard their beloved land from any future threats.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Welcome to my fanfiction! :) There are (at time of writing) two OCs planned for this story: Lied (Li-yed), and Jaegsír (Jay-eg-seer). This is the prologue of sorts, which is the reason as to its pitiful length. The rest will be longer, I promise. As always, I would love your thoughts on this and thanks for reading!**

Grey waves crashed around the Talíta, lapping at her sea-worn sides and spraying her deck with a freezing mist of glittering droplets that soaked the ship. The water reflected in the light of dusk and made everything they reached shine.

Rain poured from the sky with a pounding intensity, the sound of the falling drops hitting the wooden deck a plunking din. The wet weather only added to the ocean mist; utterly drenching the ship.

The white vessel groaned creakily as it rocked to and fro on the tumultuous rhythm of the ocean and a thunderous growl could be heard rumbling from the belly of a beast.

_This infernal weather has persisted for the last three days! How much longer can it last?_

The voice, that of an irked female, was not audible. It was a thought that echoed, infused with irritability, through the mind of any that touched the speaker, announcing her displeasure to any that cared to listen.

A hulking shadow was present near the back of the Talíta, and long, ivory claws scraped the boards of the deck, the paws they were attached to were adorned with brilliant sapphire scales.

A comforting male voice answered her. _You're being melodramatic. It's just rain; we're lucky it's not worse._

_Bah. I'm not concerned about what might happen, I'm concerned about what's happening! Besides, _you_ can hide below deck._

_I thought you didn't mind rain._

_I don't, but I've had my fill of it._

A sinuous, blue body emerged from the darkness, glinting icy blue eyes glaring through the dismal greyness. Leathery wings unfolded and stretched. A dragon, glorious and beautiful in her currently peaceful state, approached a small hatch in the floor, arching her snake-like neck so the tip of her muzzle could touch the door. She inhaled and withdrew her maw, sitting back to eye the hatch beadily, moisture glistening on her scales.

_I can imagine_. The man's voice sounded amused.

The dragon rumbled softly, her inner eyelid flickering amiably. Her affection for the man was clear and for awhile there was a companionable silence between them.

Then the male voice sighed and weariness consumed his tone. _Rain or no rain, we have to get the eggs to safety._

The dragon shifted and her voice changed as well, becoming soothing. _We are under the guidance of Glaedr and Umaroth. They will help us find a proper place. Surely the wisdom of a thousand years is enough to fulfill our quest._

_Yet it is they who look to us as leaders. _The male voice became testy. _We can't let them down._

_We won't. Together was can do anything._ The blue dragon promised with a proud snap of her deadly jaws.

_The time of the Riders will come again-_

-_and when they do-_

-_we will lead them._

A vicious determination filled the dragon's gaze and she roared into the clouds obstructing the sky, her white teeth, sharp as swords, gleaming bright. It was a cry of bonding, the seal of their promise with a bold display of confidence. Together, they would bring back the Riders.

Together, they could do anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: None of you are doing this, but I forgot to mention please keep any reviews clean, thanks!**

I paused a moment to dash the sweat from my brow with the back of my gloved hand, and then braced myself to raise the axe again.

The steel glinted in the sun above my head and flashed with fiery energy as I swung it. The blade landed right on the mark; along the grain of the wood I was chopping. It sliced half-way through the soon-to-be firewood with a satisfying thunk.

Shaking my hair out of my eyes, I drew in a breath and jerked the axe out of the wood. Preparing to wield the axe again, I altered my stance, the muscles in my arms beginning to burn with the weight of the tool.

"Lied!" My father's voice beckoned me, muffled, but excited.

Caught in mid-swing, I staggered, struggling to shoulder the axe. "Yes, Father?"

He stuck his head out of the door of our house, his small blue eyes practically glowing with barely-harnassed enthusiasm and his wispy white hair stirred by the wind. His creased skin was stretched in a jubilant grin. "We must travel back into town, boy! Queen Arya's subjects have arrived with a new batch of eggs!"

Ah, that was it. Egg Day, as I'd come to know it when I was younger. I regained my balence and rested the handle of the axe against my shoulder, running my hand down the smooth wood grain and watching my father. "How did you come to hear about their arrival?"

He waved a hand, blowing off my question. "Rumors. A tingling in the old bones. Call it what you wish; we must visit Cuenon. Leave the firewood, boy, you can finish that later."

Obediently and with only a minor twinge of frustration, I leaned the axe against the half-split stump and jogged into the house to gather both of our traveling cloaks and my dagger. Who else was going to protect the old man?

Smiling affectionately to myself, I attached the knife to my belt, and swung on the cloak, pausing a moment to glance around at the interior of our home.

It was simple enough, complete with two rooms. The larger space was where we spent the majority of our time. It housed both of our cots, a table I'd hand-carven myself, and a couple of chairs. The smaller room was for storage for food, supplies and tools.

I'd never liked being confined inside. Not when there was a whole world to escape to, so the house was a place for sleeping, seldom used for much else.

Quickly stepping out of the door, I grinned, offered my father my arm and stated with dramatic grandeur. "Shall we then?"

He grinned crookedly up at me and accepted the gesture, letting me help him with his cloak. Together we headed southwest through the creaking pine trees, a jolly spring in my father's step.

As we walked, my mind wandered, and I found myself watching the pine needles rustling, their rich, green color startling against the cobalt-blue sky and the auburn of the rough tree trunks they clung to. The waving, thick grass carpeting the earth was soft to tread upon, a blessing to weary feet.

My thoughts moved on from the familiar scene to other things, such as my father. The man in question, still keen as ever in his old age, was quite enthusiastic about going to view the elves of Du Weldenvarden seek the newest Dragon Rider, despite the fact that his wife- and my mother -had been slain during the war with Galbatorix. Her death had occurred when I was three, back when we still lived in town, under one of those many-shingled houses and with the dragon heads carved over the doors. That was sixteen years past, but I still do not like visiting Cuenon, which is part of the reason why we live half a league out into the wilderness in a secluded, mossy grove.

Apparently, back in those days, Cuenon was under Galbatorix's control, and the people of the city were being forced to venture into the elves' forest and chop down their trees to construct siege engines for the Empire.

So the elves decided to strike back for their precious, felled trees, and, in doing do, won Cuenon back, but also spread untold carnage throughout the city. I suppose I could relate to the elves' plight, but it has been hard to forgive them, since their actions resulted in the death of my mother.

Anyways, the hero of that war, the Rider who'd slaughtered the king, Eragon Bromsson, had been an immense inspiration to the those opposing the Empire; most of which had been called the Varden. My father included. That was the only reason I could glean that would explain why he would trek to town every time there came about a whisper of dragon eggs. He felt personally invested in the future of the Riders, or perhaps, he liked watching Eragon's legacy live on in Alagaësia.

Loud, exclaiming voices pierced my thoughts. I looked up, blinking hard to clear my glassy eyes. I had accomplished my goal of passing the time to walking to the city. Luckily for me, my feet knew the road well enough to walk it unconsciously.

We entered through the finely-wrought gates into Cuenon unnoticed; the attention of the townspeople was locked on the Marble Square. Normally, a few queer looks would be thrown over a shoulder in our directions; we have been labelled odd, since we did not move back into the city after the war concluded. My father's name still evokes a certain amount of courtesy however; he did fight against Galbatorix.

I glanced at my father, who was straining to see over the masses with the same gleam in his eyes.

Inwardly sighing, I began cutting a path through the crowd with an iron grip on my father, shouldering people aside if they didn't listen to my declaration. "Here, move, will you? Make space." Distractedly, the mob shifted, and I only got a handful of irritated comments in my wake.

"Aaryon, keep that son of your's in line!" One called to my father bitingly.

I ignored their snarky calls, having far more important things to do than pick fights. Finally, we fought to the front of the crowd, where I stood protectively at my father's side while he stared, transfixed.

Two elves, both with hair as black as a starless night, stood, tall and as lean as willow trees on the marble expanse of the courtyard. A pair of slender, pure white steeds stood behind them, lacking any tack save for saddlebags that rested across their withers. I- along with everyone watching -was fully aware of what lay inside those bags- dragon eggs.

The elves' expressions were like the marble beneath their feet; cold, pure and hard as stone. I stared at them, feeling a sense of familiarity, accompanied with the sense that their kind brought me; the stark realization that they were not human. The same elves usually visited with dragon eggs- the names of these two were Laufin and Uthinarë.

One of them, Laufin, stepped up, his eyes sweeping over us, capturing whoever they reached in their bright irises. "We have come to deliver the final two eggs sent to us from Esterní. It is hoped that they will hatch for one in your midst."

In dead silence, his companion Uthinarë stepped over to the horses, her footsteps barely more than a feather fall, slipping her hands into one of the saddle bags and lifting a vibrant, orange egg into the air for all to see. Every eye was trained on it, some with more hunger than others.

I eyed the egg myself, but more out of ritual than anything. Egg Day always went the same way; gape at the elves, pass around the egg, and if someone was lucky, it would hatch. Then there would be celebratory feasting late into the night.

Only one man was fortunate to become a Rider in Cuenon. Ryle, son of Nawor, had been his name. His dragon had been a lilac sort of purple. That had been years ago.

Currently, the elves' audience backed away, allowing all those who wished to hold the egg to line up before Uthinarë. The line consisted mainly of men around my age, all eager for a stab at glory.

I could never choose to hold the egg, not with Father in his condition. Although I knew he wanted me to.

As Uthinarë handed the orange egg to the first in line with utmost care, Laufin circled around to retrieve the other egg.

This one was smoky-black with a polished gleam, resembling obsidian. Laufin took his place besides his companion and the first man, who was looking slightly crestfallen as the orange egg remained inanimate in his clutches, moved over to accept the black egg from Laufin.

One after another, the men in line trickled away until the two elves stood alone with the resolutely whole eggs.

Placing a hand on my father's shoulder, I murmured to him, "We should be going." The crowd was dispersing around us, seeing as the excitement was over, and there was work to be done at home.

"All right. In time. Meanwhile, I have to purchase some meat for our supper tonight, you stay here, Lied." My father bustled away before I could utter a protest that I was more capable than him to gather supplies.

Instead, I ended up watching him stride away purposefully. Shaking my head, I was resolved to standing by myself. Shopping would probably do the old man some good, give him something to occupy himself with.

Another Egg Day come and gone, and by the sounds of it, the last one. I gazed at the elves, who were placing their eggs back into the packs slung across their horses' shoulders with infinite care. As if they knew the importance of their burden, the animals matched their masters' patient caution and stood with their heads raised, crescent-shaped ears pricked alertly.

Suddenly Laufin glanced up, his slanted eyes catching sight of me. I held his stare; I possessed no reason to be afraid of their people, save for the fact they were strange to me, and that was no plausible excuse. The elf's hands ceased their nimble movements of clasping the saddle bag and he turned to me completely. I could see his mouth move as he spoke softly to Uthinarë, who faced me as well.

I continued staring him down evenly and they started to approach me, horses in tow. My heart pounded in my chest at the sight of two strange creatures, their power, the skill of magic, present in their every motion. Their horses' hooves clopped softly in time to one another as they trotted willingly behind their riders, the hoof beats almost echoing in my ears.

They were strong, yet mysterious, which only added to their prowess. It was a fascinating and fearful combination that I was wary of.

The pair halted in front of me, appraising me with their intense eyes.

"What is your name, young one?" Uthinarë asked, her voice lilting pleasantly, belying her steely gaze.

"Lied, son of Aaryon." I spoke, finding my voice surprisingly calm through the turmoil of emotions I was feeling.

"Why did you not join the others?" Laufin held up one slim hand, indicated the spot where the line had been.

"I have my father to take care of." I presented the excuse I had always used, although the elves looked a bit disbelieving, if elves could be disbelieving. "I could not take the risk of an egg hatching for me."

"Regardless, we wish you to hold the eggs." Laufin's eyes bore into mine.

"Why?" I challenged them, slightly taken aback by their command. Surely, one of their kind would be better suited. I did not even want the job!

"We have our reasons." Uthinarë's lip twitched in a half-smile that warmed her features like a single ray of sunlight in a shadowed forest.

That could mean nothing but ill will. I fought to contain my suspicions, reminding myself of Eragon and Saphira; they had plenty of dealings with elves and had come out unscathed- apart from the fact that Eragon looked like an elf when he emerged from Du Weldenvarden after his training, if the rumors are true.

Mentally shaking off my doubts, I extended my hands for one of the eggs.

Immediately, Laufin shook his head. "Your gloves. It would be better if you would remove them."

Deciding I would abide by his opinion, I removed my gloves and held out my hands again, the muscles working in my jaw. Laufin placed the orange egg in my hands, his long fingernails brushing against my skin.

It sat there, cool and perfectly smooth to the touch in my grasp. The shades of oranges were beautiful to observe, melting into each other in graceful swirls, but nothing extraordinary happened. I looked up at the elves to gauge their reactions and they exchanged seemingly emotionless glances, before Laufin plucked the egg from me.

Uthinarë replaced it with the sable egg, which felt the same initially, then...

It began to quiver, to quake in between my fingers. I stared at it, unable to stir. Was this normal when one held a dragon egg? Was the orange egg defective and that was why it didn't shake?

I wanted to hand it off to one of the elves, but they weren't even looking at me; their gazes were locked on the egg, dozens of thoughts flickering across their eyes. Besides, I could not move if I wanted to.

It began to rock to and fro, and almost slipped out of my hands. Hurriedly, I readjusted my grip and laid the egg on the ground as carefully as if I was handling precious jewels, praying that I didn't break it.

Once I'd recovered from the close call, I turned on the elves. It was about time I received some answers."What's going on?" I snarled at Laufin, throwing out a hand to indicate the egg, but he steadfastly ignored me.

The egg was quivering more rapidly now and suddenly, there was no egg. Shards of black egg pieces flew across the courtyard, skidding on the marble with sharp clicking noises.

I instinctively leaped backwards, my hand going to the dagger at my side. The egg was gone and standing in its place was... a miniature dragon. A baby.

The world seemed to hold still as I stared at the creature, a buzzing filling my ears and vertigo overtaking me. This could not be happening. As much as I was doubting my sanity, I couldn't help but stare at it, enraptured.

Its scales matched the hue of the egg, inky black but with a distinctive shine. Every little scale was perfectly aligned, layered over one another to create an immaculate full-body armor. It shook itself and snapped its little jaws with a tiny scraping sound, as if annoyed. Its webbed wings, like a bat's, stretched out, each of them nearly twice the length of its body and refolded clumsily at its sides. Swept-back, ebony horns on either side of its head gave it a devilish appearance. A pair of burnished, dark golden eyes fixed on me and it reared its head, tilting it as if analyzing me as a prospective piece of prey.

Then it ruined its ferocious appearance by staggering with a little trilling noise of irritation. It regained its balance by raising its wings, flapping them about once or twice.

I inhaled deeply, and slowly turned my gaze to the elves, my expression one of mingled shock and anger. I am not ashamed to admit, I begged them a little with my eyes, pleading with them to tell me that this was some strange dream brought on by my father's tales of dragons and heroes.

Uthinarë was watching me with an amused expression, as if my reaction was completely normal and she saw a half dozen idiotic humans go through this every week and still found it humorous, while Laufin had abandoned all pretenses of loftiness and had a wide smile across his face.

"It seems you have been chosen, Lied-finiarel."

* * *

**So there's your main character, Lied. If you stick around, you'll be journeying with him for the rest of the story, so I hope you like him! Eragon, Saphira, Blödhgarm, Arya and others will be frequent presences as well. Any thoughts? As usual, I would love to hear them!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Chosen. All right. _Chosen_." I uttered the last word low under my breath, spitting it out like a curse. Raking a hand through my hair in a habitual motion, I looked away from the pair of elves, feeling as if my eyes with burn if I gazed upon their smug faces for a heartbeat more, and drew in a ragged breath.

I could sense the dragon's deep, golden stare searing into me, even if I couldn't see it. Somehow, its presence soothed me, as if I was standing next to a friend I had known from birth, who knew me better than I knew myself.

Unable to restrain my curiosity, I glanced at it surreptitiously from the corner of my eye and saw that it was standing boldly, its eyes locked on me as if I was the center of its universe.

"Yes. You must touch him, to establish the bond between dragon and Rider." Laufin's voice was soft and blossoming with joy, but his tone was weighted with meaning- I had no choice in this. It had to be done.

Facing them, I straightened my spine, eyeing them calculatingly. "Very well." I did not like to be ordered about and this was certainly not an ideal situation, but there was something in that dragon's eyes that pulled at my heart, beckoning me with a insistent hand.

Crouching next to the ebony creature, I took a moment to simply study it. It snorted, giving its head a single, decisive shake as if to hurry me along.

Shifting my weight, I narrowed my eyes in determination. This little dragon would not get the best of me. Reaching out with my right hand, I felt my palm touch its smooth-scaled head for the blink of an eye, and then a shock rippled through me, spreading outward from my hand to the rest of my body as potent and electrifying as a bolt of lighting streaking across the sky.

It snapped and crackled inside me, as fresh and as fierce as the freezing of ice. My palm felt scorched, touched by the same force that was still present in my body.  
I could not tell how much time had passed when the surge of energy had ceased, save for a tingling in my palm, and I was left gasping on my back like a freshly landed fish. It had hurt, oh indeed there had been pain, but there had also been an inexplicable ecstasy, as if I had never truly been alive until this moment.

My chest heaved as my lungs fought for air and my heart raced frantically, unsure of what had just become of the body it lived in. I leaned my head back against the marble expanse as gently as I could and stared blankly up at the cloudless, azure sky, finding myself extremely weary.

Out of my line of vision, the dragon let out a chirp, as if encouraging me to get to my feet. In response, I allowed my eyelids to close. Suddenly, a reproving jabbing sensation pricked my consciousness and I cringed, pushing myself up to stare at the dragon. It rustled its wings and eyed me coolly, the obvious culprit for whatever had overtaken me. I glared at it accusingly.

"Lied! My boy! What has become of you..." My father's voice trailed away as he got an eyeful of my predicament. I twisted my head around to look at him. He'd got the slab of venison for our table tonight all wrapped up, but it looked like it was about to slide from his back.

His frail frame was trembling. "Elves? Of Du Weldenvarden?" He asked croakily, blinking at the two figures behind me with watery eyes.

Uthinarë inclined her head, her raven hair shifting forward the slightest bit for a glimpse of her fair pointed ears. "Yes, the very same."

"And who would you be?" Laufin queried politely.

"My father." I winced as I pushed myself up, my legs quivering as much as the egg had a minute earlier. "Aaryon."

Laufin nodded. "Indeed." He proceeded to brazenly ignore my shell-shocked relative and held out a hand towards me. "Your hand, please."

I unclenched my steaming hand and offered it to him, palm upwards. A silvery, circular mark that reminded me of a swath of glittering stars had appeared on my hand, almost as if it had been burned there. Or the dragon had spit fire onto my hand and this was the result.

The elf examined my hand and promptly released it as soon as his eyes ran over the silver marking. "The gedwëy ignasia, or shining palm."

"And that is the sign of the Rider?" I assumed, tilting my hand to allow light to dance across its gleaming surface, glancing up at the elves questioningly.

"That is correct. Now, we are under Queen Arya's orders. You and your dragon must be escorted to Ellesméra immediately."

Indignantly, I shook my head, staring them down heatedly. "I cannot abandon my father."

"We would not separate you from your kin." Uthinarë met my fiery gaze with a quelling icy stare. "Aaryon will reside in Ellesméra while you undergo training." Her accented voice lashed me haughtily, apparently "putting me back in my rightful place".

"In Estraní?" I protested, taking a pace back to stand besides my father.

"When your dragon is old enough to fly whilst bearing your weight, yes." Laufin shot me a frozen look that matched his companion's down to the last piercing detail.

I let out a annoyed breath that was more like a huff and began to pace feverishly, trying to rid myself of my angry energy in order to clear my mind. "Will my father be well cared for?"

"Of course."

"Supplied with proper food, clothes, anything of the like?" I spun on my heel, changing direction.

"Yes. Although if he wants meat, he will have to hunt for it himself, and far away from our city."

Taking the strange request in stride- if the elves did not like meat, that was not my concern -I halted, watching the elves. "Then aside from hunting, would he be free to do as he pleases?"

"As long as he doesn't interfere with the peace or meddle in something that could bring him harm, then yes."

I drew in a breath and turned to my father with a question in my eyes. There was not doubt in my mind that he would accept, quite gladly, and I would be off, training a dragon.

Just as I'd predicted, his own eyes were glistening and he was gazing at me with pure affection. I had fulfilled his ultimate dream, or so he believed. "Ah, my son. You have done me proud. I will go with you to Ellesméra."

I felt something rough brush against my leg and looked down. The black dragon was twining around my ankles like an over-affectionate cat, staring up at me with something like pride in its eyes.

As much as I'd originally disliked it, I felt a half-smile creep across my face and before I knew it, I was holding the squirming creature in my arms where it settled like a king upon his throne, taking in the new sights.

While it settled in my grasp, I surveyed the area around us: unknowingly, we had accumulated quite an audience. Was there going to be a feast once we had departed, akin to Ryle's?

Everyone was watching us, their wide-eyed whispers disturbing the stillness of the air.  
I looked around once or twice and announced into the silence. "We are traveling to Ellesméra. I wish you all well." I couldn't help but inject a hit of sarcasm into my tone. What else could I say? I despised being gawked at. And it wasn't like they'd been the image of hospitality throughout my life here.

The atmosphere remained quiet and fearful and nobody moved, so I began to usher my father away- it would be pointless to linger any longer - with the little dragon clutched firmly in my arms. I wanted to shield it from all of the peering eyes, almost feeling the intensity of the gazes locked on it.

Behind us, I could hear the clopping of the elves' mounts and together, we exited the city of Cuenon unceremoniously.

Laufin and Uthinarë wanted to stop as soon as we'd passed the city's gates, but I mutely continued on through the brush to our house, savoring the opportunity to ponder my situation without being disrupted by having to make a life-altering decision every other moment.

Instead of calming me as they usually did, the sound of the pine needles rustling put me on edge, made me watch the shadows in the corner of my eyes for hidden enemies.

Never could I be more truthful than when I say I did not want this burden- scales, fire-breathing maw and all. But I won't pretend it wasn't at least a minor relief to secure my father's future- even if it made him a permanent resident in the forest of the elves. It gave me liberty and it meant that he would be happy for the rest of his days, living with the elves and thinking about his dragon-riding son who was off saving the whole of Alagaësia.

The prominent question on my mind was: what role did I play in this? I was a Rider now, albeit a rather reluctant one, but there was no turning away the hands of fate. The creature I held was a dragon and I had to face it.

Yet I would not be a pawn in a bigger game. I wanted control of my future; and if I was to rescue Alagaësia from some threat, I wanted my actions to be my own.  
I would do this, for my father's sake, I would become a Rider. But I would not become a slave to destiny.

Meanwhile, we had come upon our house, quite a small structure, easily hidden in the trees.

"Set him down. He can scavenge himself a meal." Laufin ordered me, his eyes locked on the dragon.

Complying, I set the dragon loose and it shook itself with a little growl, cast a contemptuous glance at the dried meat my father possessed, and trotted off between the trees, head weaving as it searched for a scent. At least, that's what I gathered it was doing, since that's what any sensible predator would do, unless dragons have a different hunting style.

"Lied." Laufin's voice snapped my out of my reverie and I realized I was gazing at the dragon retreat into the forest. I focused all of my attention on the matter at hand with a small shake of my head. It could take care of itself.

The elf's voice gentled. "He'll come back. Now, I thought it best to inform you that from here on out, we'll be going separate ways. Uthinarë will continue to Carvahall, Therinsford and the cities beyond with the remaining egg. I will be accompanying you and Aaryon to Ellesméra." Laufin's accented voice stroked lovingly over the name of his capital. "Do you have a horse?"

"Yes."

"Then fetch it. Uthinarë will lend us her steed, but I think it's obvious we need one more."

I jogged to the back of our house where the chestnut mare was picketed in the lush greenery and pulled up the stake restraining to the earth, tucking it under my arm while I worked at tacking her up. Soon she was geared for riding and I clucked to her, moving her out amidst the small crowd outside our house. She looked quite plain compared to the highly bred elven steeds, but she would do.

"If you feel inclined to pocket any treasured possessions, I would do so now." Laufin instructed.

I nearly snickered at him. Did either me or my father look to be hiding a priceless family heirloom anywhere?

"We'll be fine." Aaryon answered for us, his voice steady, hiding the joy I knew he was feeling.

I glanced around at the grove with a twisted feeling in my heart. There lay the unfinished firewood with the axe right where I'd left it, unknown to me when I started, that I would never complete the task that now seemed so trivial. The house that I helped my father raise as a child, the trees that had sang their whispery song into my ears for as long as I could recall.

Surely, I would return here one day. This would not be the final meeting. But I would miss it.

"Summon your dragon, Lied." Uthinarë told me, and I nodded at her, drawing in breath to shout.

"Nay, use your thoughts, child." Laufin corrected me, his eyes searing into me.

I didn't bother questioning him, and thought into the space inside my head that was soon to be occupied by another as well as me. _Dragon? We must leave._

Almost instantaneously, an emotion came flying back. Acceptance. And the sensation of running with paws pounding and wind rushing.

"It's coming." I asserted, barely knowing how I understood, and we waited.

Soon enough, the sable shape of the creature hurtled through the bushes, scattering pine needles down from the trees with the force of its arrival. It stretched its jaws in a yawn and sauntered over to me, looking up imploringly with those sly gold eyes. Grinning with a giddy rush of glee at its presence, I bent down and picked it up, holding it close to my chest possessively. We would face the future together. Perhaps this dragon-Rider bond had some potential.

Over the head of the dragon, I met my father's eyes and spoke with quietly, every syllable ringing in my ears, "We're ready to leave, if you wish it."

"Then it is off to Ellesméra." Laufin lifted his chin, eyes gleaming with the brilliance of the moon. "May the stars watch over us all."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thank you all for the positive and informative reviews! I'm being a little repetitive in saying this, but- as always -if you have any thoughts, feel free to share!**

The scent of sweat-dampened leather and the repetitive thudding of hooves on grassy ground filled the late afternoon air. We were on the edge of the thickest section of the forest, otherwise known as Du Weldenvarden.

This close to the elves' forest, I noticed a tangible change in the aura of the forest around us. It reminded me of the trees back at our house, except intensified. The very woods sang and when the trees creaked back and forth, their branches swaying elegantly, they seemed to be engaged in a slow dance with the wind. I had no experience to back up my theory, but I was convinced there was a prominent feeling of magic about this place.

Otherworldly assumptions aside, I had been seated on the creaking saddle mounted on our old mare the whole journey so my father could enjoy riding on an authentic elven steed. I grimaced. I had never had time for riding, although the concept had always been mildly intriguing.

Now my rattled body disagreed with that sentiment. The horse's pace rocked me back and forth, forcing me to find her rhythm and move in time with it unless I wanted to bounce in the saddle for the remainder of the trip.

Nevertheless, I was grateful towards the horse herself. I had to convince her that the black dragon wasn't a threat (which involved lots of stroking and consoling) and now I had tied the source of her fear to her back.

The dragon was sitting in front of me across the saddle, its long talons digging into the worn leather, and occasionally gnawing on the saddle horn with a ferocious growl. I used one hand to steer the horse, and one to reassure myself that the little creature was secure. Presently, it had fallen asleep, curled up against me with one paw pressed against the saddle horn and one translucent, ebony wing spread over itself, the other folded at its side.

I could feel its scaled flank rising and falling under my hand and again, a wave of unexplained affection washed over me. A flicker of emotion that was not my own dwelled in the back of my mind as my own thoughts focused on the dragon.

Hazy images that I could see in my mind's eye portrayed the black dragon, now fully grown, soaring above the clouds, sunlight spilling on its dark scales and making its golden eyes glitter. It was a powerful, massive beast, but as it floated on the breeze, it seemed lighter than a swallow diving through the foliage of a oak tree. It arched its neck proudly, its wings beating steadily, and I suddenly perceived the sense of wind brushing past my face and running through my hair. A fierce, possessive emotion gripped my heart. I was the ruler of the world. The prospect of my defeat was nothing more than a child's fantasy, for I was the king of earth, sky and fire.

The dragon's fiery eyes glinted at me piercingly and then the emotion faded and the images left my mind, leaving me alone with the presence, which had returned to being just that- a dormant presence in my soul. I gasped as if I had just managed to drag myself to the shore of a pond I had been drowning in.

Laufin's mind was apparently on other, more pressing subjects; he did not react to my shock. My father, however, pressed his hands against his horse's white shoulders, following Laufin's earlier instructions on how to steer the elven steeds- think to them your desired destination, or if all else fails, use a small collection of elvish words. The lithe horse obediently trotted next to my chestnut mare and my father rested a hand on my shoulder lightly, his brow furrowed.

I avoided his gaze adamantly, instead watching our mounts touching soft noses in friendship. At the white horse's touch, my horse lifted her head and nickered thankfully, as if the other had bestowed her with a fresh reserve of energy.

But he did not utter a word and soon his hand left my shoulder and he urged his horse on, his tattered cloak fluttering in his wake.

I watched him thoughtfully. He was a compassionate man, always willing to encourage me in whatever foolish dream I'd fancied when I was a boy. Kind and endearing, he never raised a hand against the crowd who scorned us in Cuenon. But there was always a wishful quality about him, a kind of dreamy, distant feeling that time had failed to erode.

My mother, from what I could remember of her, could've split open his shell to reveal his true feelings. She had been a confident, upfront woman who was always up for a good jest. My faint memories, coupled with my father's admiring stories, had presented me with that image of her, which I cherished.

_Even she wouldn't have expected this_. I thought ruefully, gazing down at the dragon in my lap. Yet I knew she would expect me, as her son, to preserve and make the best of it. And that I would.

Absent-mindedly, I stroked the crest of the dragon's forehead with my thumb. _Let destiny come at me full-force, I will be ready._

Half-amused and half-serious at my own dramatic mental statement, I looked ahead at the shadowed tree line.

We continued on for some time, until Laufin called for a halt.

He dismounted and made a gesture that I took to meaning that we should do the same. Carefully making sure I did not disturb the dragon, I swung myself out of the saddle with an internal groan of relief, that quickly transformed into pain as my stiff muscles stretched and recoiled at the sudden movement.

Wincing, I looked up to ensure that the dragon was safely resting on the saddle. It had rolled over, and was now splayed across the whole of the saddle, still slumbering soundly.

A plodding of hooves around me distracted me from the soothing sight of my sleeping dragon. The two pure white horses were jogging past us, an enthusiastic hop in their gaits, into the depths of the forest, their bright coats soon consumed by the shadows.  
I took a step forward to pursue them, but Laufin raised a hand. "They will wait for us in Osilon, one of our cities. We can travel on foot from here."

Narrowing my eyes, I withdrew my foot. "Then what becomes of us now?"

"Come here please." Laufin ignored my question and proffered an arm.

Walking warily towards him, I gazed upon the towering trees of the elven forest. Even if I was doomed- I mean fated -to train here, it did not mean I trusted it. "What must I do?"

"Step forward and reach out with your mind into the trees," Laufin's voice was soft, hypnotizing. An ancient ring clung to his words, as if he was using his own voice to speak words that had been stated before he was alive.

Narrowing my eyes further, I concentrated on the trees, delving into the depths of my soul. I accidentally made contact with the soul housed in my own, and I heard a sharp trill behind me from my awakened dragon.

It twined its mind around mine and together, without conscious thought on my part, we sent a thought flying through the forest, _We are here_. I had intended to say 'I', but the 'we' escaped before I could retract it. It seemed wrong to leave out the dragon when I named myself- he was a part of me, plain and simple. I sensed agreement emanating from the dragon's consciousness.

A deep voice answered me, resonating in my head with such greatness and regality that I flinched backwards, jerking my head the slightest bit as I tried to locate the owner of the intense voice. _Name yourselves._

"Gilderien-elda, it is I, Laufin, guardian of the Lost Eggs." Laufin's voice announced gallantly.

The air before my shuddered as if in physical pain and suddenly a shaft of light poured down from the heavens, illuminating the trees around it with a pure, holy light, and within it was an elf. Not just any elf; this being was clearly of royal blood. He stood tall, with robes of such fine make that I doubted any of that quality could be sewn by mortal hands, a slim silver crown resting atop his head.

His face was the embodiment of wisdom, his expression was one of calm observance, yet his eyes pierced me more effectively than any blade.

"I am Lied, son of Aaryon." I voiced simply, gazing evenly at what surely must've been an elf god, allowing him to judge me as I was.

His eyes, eternal pools filled with experience and boundless knowledge studied me. _I am not a deity for you to worship, Lied, son of Aaryon. Yet, I sense there is more to you than what you claim; I ask you to continue naming yourself._

I raised my chin, steeling myself, and cast a glance back at the dragon. It was standing atop the saddle, wings half-open and eyes locked on the individual before me. Its wiry body was tense, but its stare was burning, unwavering.

I turned back to Gilderien. "I am a Rider bonded to the dragon accompanying us. I am here to begin my training under Lady Arya in Ellesméra. Then I will travel over seas to the new land discovered by Eragon Shadeslayer and his dragon, Saphira Brightscales, the land known as Estraní, to complete my training." The dragon I had named let out a throaty snarl, as if seconding my words.

Gilderien contemplated me. _Your training will never be complete, Lied-finiarel, but your words speak the truth. Who is the final member of your group?_

"My father, Aaryon. He is a farmer of Cuenon, coming to live in Ellesméra while I am training."

My father himself was completely awestruck, staring at the elf slack-jawed; I doubted he could answer Gilderien if he wanted to.

A smile brightened the serene expression of the elf-lord. _You may pass. _He closed his eyes and melted into nothingness with nary more than a blink of an eye.

"Who was that, Laufin?" I immediately rounded on the elf, heart pounding against my ribcage with the stress of the supernatural experience I had just gone through.

"Gilderien the Wise, prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vándil, and guardian of Ellesméra, more recently, the entirety of Du Weldenvarden." Laufin's cool eyes surveyed me for a moment before striding past me into the woods, his sleek, sable hair blending in with the shade of the trees.

I snatched the reins of my horse, ignoring the sudden pang of annoyance the dragon sent me from the horse's abrupt movement. "And why, pray tell, did he decide to expand his boundaries?"

"It was decided after the war with Galbatorix to give us another form of protection. As long as you do not lie, and your intentions are pure, Gilderien will grant you entrance. In addition to guarding our land from evil forces, we have also opened our land to humans and other mortals. Gilderien-elda prevents thieves and others who wish to commit foul deeds from entering our country."

"Interesting." My father nodded as if all this made perfect sense, hiking up his cloak so it didn't snag as he stumbled along behind me.

I shook my head in surrender and diverted my energy into guiding the horse through the pines, her hooves crunching the layer of dead needles at our feet.

Yet my father was not finished. "It was of my belief that the elves have a series of magical defenses surrounding your forest, isn't that right?"

"Indeed. Although, if one as strong as Galbatorix should rise to power, mere enchantments will not be sufficient." Laufin's tone became amused. "And as I said, humans, Urgals and dwarves can now enter our domain more freely. Extra precautions had to be taken."

My lips twisted into a smirk. He was not wrong.

"I lived through the Battle for Cuenon, and several of my kinsmen broke through your barriers to cut down trees." My father continued.

"Yes. Our energies were not focused on protecting our boundaries at that time, rather on our main forces, all of whom were striving to defeat Galbatorix's army. But as soon as we sensed the breach, we immediately sent troops to retaliate. I'm sure the humans who were in that party were not entirely unaffected by our magic." A cold satisfaction snuck into the elf's voice, but was swiftly replaced by repentance at the realization of his mishap. "I am sorry, I did not mean to appear condescending."

"Think nothing of it, my friend." My father smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Our two races have long been wary of each other. It isn't likely that grudge will fade immediately."

Laufin glanced back, his eyes warm as they met my father's. "You show perception. That is a good trait to possess."

The grudge has been held for sixteen years since the death of Galbatorix. I ground my teeth irritatedly and spoke my mind. "Why the sudden change of heart towards my kind?"

Laufin's back straightened rigidly. "It was a mutual decision. My people agreed that it was time to leave our seclusion. It was doing our race nothing but harm- and there was a possibility that if we were more active in the affairs of Alagaësia, Galbatorix might not have achieved so much in his tyranny. Or not even ascended to the throne."

Not trusting my tongue to remain civil, I managed a curt nod and stayed quiet, giving a slight tug on the reins to encourage the horse to pick up the pace.

The rest of the day's trek, I didn't speak, instead exploring my connection to the dragon's mind. The black-scaled beast allowed me to search its thoughts while at the same time reaching into the innermost of my being. It was a humbling feeling, to know that a sentient creature knew your every secret, private emotion and fumbling thought that you would never dare utter aloud. The dragon soothed me with a wave of wordless assurance- it would never betray our bond. I answered with silent gratitude and an identical promise.

We exchanged memories and past thoughts. The memories were like a grand mural on a wall that stretched on and on, and the thoughts were little spikes of emotion in the images, more picture than spoken language. The dragon's cool amusement at my childhood mistakes and minor traumas made me smile ruefully while simultaneously searching for a memory of its that I could expose.

There was nothing but memories of darkness in the confinement of its shell. It could feel its parents' heartbeats as they moved about the egg and the faint egg-dreams that had over-taken it.

I sensed its joy and when it felt my presence in the courtyard in Cuenon and knew with solid certainty that I was its match. It was completely resolved to find me, shutting out the others who had stepped up as Rider candidates. It was frustrated, angered by the fact that I was so close, and yet just out of reach. It was stirring in its shell, half-tempted to break out of it and dash over to me before one of its elven carriers captured it. I relived its ecstasy as my hand made contact with its scales, it felt as though the other half of his soul had been forged and it was made completely anew. A spell that had been cast upon it had been fulfilled and now tied us together, heart and soul.

The dragon disliked me calling him "it" in my thoughts and with a pointed jab, he made it clear that he was a male.

_Do you have a name_? I questioned. The dragon responded with a flash of negative emotion that turned up grey in my mind's eye.

_Why don't you speak_?

The dragon shook its head with a sound rather like an annoyed cat's.

We basked in the rays of the other's consciousness for the rest of the journey, not paying any mind to much else than each other, and into Osilon. The elves' city was mainly crops and an assortment of ordinary-looking farms, although a collection of buildings that looked like they had been grown out of the ground just as easily as the wheat and corn dwelled in the center. The whole city lay at the east base of a weathered mountain probably as old as the elves themselves.

My dragon and I had been too absorbed in the other's thoughts to notice we were hiking around a mountain. It was a very strange relationship to be forced into- one that I still did not comprehend. It was going to bother me incessantly until I understood it.

Even so, I would be a fool not to observe the foreign architecture of the elves. It was graceful, flowing with the curves of the earth and every wall and every shingled roof was immaculate; it was perfectly aligned. The elves themselves- male and female -were beautiful, pale faces as bright as the moon and slanted eyes staring into my very soul as easily as my dragon's. Their beauty was alien, strange. It seemed too pure to be real, a heavenly gift.

As breath-taking as they appeared, the elves' eyes were still off putting. They were cold, fierce and above all, detached. It was the look of a being who would stab you in the back in one breath and tend to your wounds in the next not caring if you lived or died. You were beneath them, and that was it.

In short, I did not trust them.

The elves of Osilon were accustomed to seeing dragons pass through their town by now, so Laufin told me, but they still had inquisitive glances to spare.

A few came up to Laufin and engaged him in a conversation in their spidery language. Understanding none of these exchanges and not being called to introduce myself, I would politely glance away and pretend to admire the nature around the elves' homes, while mentally telling my dragon precisely what I thought about the elf talking to Laufin, usually in descriptive images.

Whenever that happened, my father would bustle forward, absolutely beaming, and extend a hand to the new elf, who would pull out a smile that was practically dusty from disuse and shake his hand.

The remainder of Osilon was nondescript; the elves had no business with me, nor I with them. Taking shelter inside the house of one of Laufin's friends, we slept there.  
As I lay on the simple cot laid out for me, staring through the oppressive ebony of the night to the crisp light of the moon, I considered my experiences thus far. I blocked out the dragon; I wanted my thoughts to be my own. I could only faintly sense his emotions, which consisted of fragments of the dream he was having.

My legs and feet ached and my mind spun, and, as much as I tried, all I could think about were the legends of Eragon Shadeslayer, imagining me and my dragon in his and Saphira's place. I was well aware of my abilities, and I knew that it was not within them to slay a Shade and ferry two hundred dragon eggs to a new world.

All that train of thought accomplished was fresh dread for meeting Queen Arya and Fírnen, to have them judge me as a potential hero joining the ranks of their order.  
Forcing my eyes to close, I rolled over on the soft linen sheets and dashed the thoughts out of my mind with a ferocious reprimand. _You'll be fine. When have you not succeeded at something you put your mind to?_

* * *

**And that is the truth of riding a horse. If you got nothing else out of this chapter, I hope you remember the trials of sitting on a saddle for half a day.  
Just kidding! We're on the road to Ellesméra! Don't know about you, but I'm excited to start writing about Lied's training. Thanks for reading!**


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